Dreams and Nightmares
by ShardsandAshes
Summary: Another night, another nightmare. Percy broods while Oliver tries to comfort him. And half-healed scars are about to burst wide open again.


**Disclaimer****: I don't own it, and I make no money off of it. Please don't sue me.**

**AN****: This was written for the Pairing One Hour Challenge. My pairing was Percy/Oliver, and my prompt was blood red. There is a warning for adult themes. This story is AU and takes place a little more than a year after the Final Battle. In this AU, Percy was also under the Imperius, and Pius Thicknesse died in the Final Battle. **

Percy quietly fastened his dressing gown and slipped out the bedroom door, leaving Oliver asleep in their bed. He wandered into the kitchen of their flat and set to making some warm milk. Oliver had introduced him to it once he realized how poorly Percy was sleeping, and Percy had been relieved to find that it did help. At least, it meant fewer nights taking a potion to ease his nightmares.

They came nearly every night. Flashbacks from what he'd been made to witness during the year that the Dark Lord had held the Ministry and memories of what he and Pius Thicknesse had been made to do. Percy understood now that he had been under a version of the Imperius Curse just as Pius had, but Rabastan Lestrange had been much better at it than Antonin Doholov. It had been blatantly obvious that Pius was under the Imperius. The glassy eyes had been an undeniable giveaway, and Pius had occasionally managed to break the curse, requiring Doholov to recast it. But it had taken a deep magical scan by Kingsley Shacklebolt after the Final Battle to figure out that Percy had been under the Imperius as well; Lestrange had simply had enough command of the magic that it had not shown outwardly.

Thus, Percy had been fully pardoned, and his record wiped clean. The newly-named Minister Shacklebolt had even offered Percy his old job back, to stand at his side as his aide. Percy had been startled by the offer. For a moment, he had considered it. But then, Percy had thought of Fred. He had thought of Pius, another whom he had failed to save. And he had thought of Oliver, the head of the newly-created aerial broom based combat program. Oliver could have had any Quidditch position and team that he wanted, but he had declined them all in favor of a job that would allow him to stay closer to home, the home that he was creating with Percy whom he had just married.

Home was a word that Percy would never get tired of hearing.

For the first time in his life, Percy turned his back on the temptation of power and declined the Minister's offer. The Minister had clearly been expecting it and had immediately offered Percy a position as head of the Ministry Archives, a complicated job that would make him responsible for straightening out the piles of paperwork, books, parchments, memory vials, and various magical objects that had been misplaced, misfiled, or otherwise misappropriated during the war, especially the final year.

While the Death Eaters had been capable of taking over the Ministry, they'd proven to be decidedly less competent at actually running the Ministry. Someone had to clean up their mess, and Percy was satisfied to be that someone. He went to work, came home exhausted but content with his progress, and spent the evening sharing dinner with Oliver after which the two of them wore themselves out with even more pleasant activities.

But inevitably, Percy would wake in the darkness muffling a scream and trying to blink away the images of torture, trying to block out the cries of the victims, trying to blink away the memories of blood on his hands. It never helped.

So he would get up and go to the kitchen and make warm milk, watching the night sky from the window as he tried to will away the scars that even Oliver's love could not seem to heal.

"Percy?" Oliver said as he slipped into the kitchen. He had thrown a robe on but hadn't bothered to fasten it, leaving his toned chest bare. "Another nightmare?"

Percy nodded. With the ease of long practice, Oliver slipped his strong arms around Percy's waist, pulling him close. Percy rested wearily in his husband's embrace. They just stood like that for a while as Oliver's presence calmed Percy's unsettled nerves.

Oliver's eyes happened to glance at the kitchen table. A letter lay there, addressed to Percy from Gringotts. Ever the impulsive Gryffindor, Oliver couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Percy, what did Gringotts want?" He felt Percy stiffen in his arms and then pull away, and he cursed himself for bringing this up in the middle of the night and on the heels of Percy's nightmare. "Percy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. It can wait till tomorrow."

His husband sighed and waved off the apology. "I actually meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind. The letter is a summons. Pius Thicknesse's estate is finally being settled, and I am the sole beneficiary."

Oliver's eyes widened. "So he did leave everything to you. Does that mean he made you his heir?"

Percy nodded, rubbing his tired eyes. "That is likely the case. He never married. He never had a child. He had no siblings. His parents are deceased, and his more distant relatives rarely had much to do with him. But he was a pureblood, and he needed an heir. I knew he had come to think of me rather as a son, but I hadn't realized that he had taken it all the way. He must have carried it out during one of the times he broke the Imperius."

Percy's blue eyes were far away. "Damn it, but I wish I could have saved him! I don't know how I would have made it through that year without him. It sounds ridiculous to admit that a grown man needed a father figure, but I did. He was all I had since I had estranged myself from my own father."

Oliver squeezed Percy's tense shoulder. "You've made up with Arthur though, haven't you? Your family seems to have accepted us well enough."

Percy's smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Yes, they've accepted you, thank Merlin. But my father and me…the two of us have a long way to go. Our relationship has never been easy, and this is not going to make it any easier." He glanced away. "Pius was a very rich man, Oliver. He was a very rich pureblood with all the trappings that go with that. His family has votes in the Wizengamot and titles and power. That he didn't care to be as obvious about it as Lucius Malfoy does not make it any less real."

Oliver immediately understood Percy's concern. "Pius may very well have left you everything that your father ever wanted to give his family. And now, you may have the chance to be the kind of man that he always wanted to be but never could."

Percy's blinked quickly and glanced away again. Oliver knew that Percy was holding back tears, but he also knew that Percy would not want attention drawn to that. Oliver said nothing, but he pulled his husband gently back into his arms. Percy resisted just a moment before weariness and worry took its toll, and he let Oliver hold him.

"I'm afraid I'll lose him, that I'll lose my whole family again over this when I have just gotten them back," Percy mumbled, the fatigue catching up to him in a rush.

Oliver silently guided Percy back to their bed, taking a moment to hang up their robes so Percy wouldn't be upset to find them on the floor in the morning. His husband's eyes were half open as Oliver lay down beside him. Oliver turned Percy so that they faced each other.

"Percy, whatever happens with this, we'll deal with it together. As for your family, give them a chance to come around. They may surprise you." Oliver smiled, trying to reassure his husband.

"But what if they don't?" Percy whispered.

Oliver leaned in close. Brown eyes held blue. "Then we'll just have to be everything to each other. And it will be enough," Oliver replied.

"You're always enough to me." Percy's reply was little more than a whisper against Oliver's bare skin. Then lips met, tongues danced, and there was no need for any more words.


End file.
